Several Days Before the Blood Pack Technology Expedition
Several days before the Blood Pack Technology expedition. Amidst her security force training, Nazadin stood out with her healthy brown skin, black curly hair, and striking blue eyes like those of a Siamese cat. She was also a Muslim woman who had worn a hijab during training—until Instructor Hartman choked her out.
Her faith was average at best, but she'd grown up in an extremely patriarchal society, obedient to her strict father. She respected his sense of responsibility and capability in supporting their family of seven single-handedly. He'd never once smiled at her. But every time he came home from work, she'd run barefoot to greet him, and he'd always stroke her head with his thick, callused hands. She loved the smell of oil ingrained in those hands and the rough hardened skin. Sometimes there were fresh wounds that hadn't healed yet, carrying the scent of blood—that saddened her. So even if she didn't fully agree with the traditions and duties her father preached, she tried her best to understand.
That's why, when Nazadin learned of the flogging sentence on Shelter News, she shot to her feet.
Thinking of Hartman's inevitable rage, she hesitated for a moment but steeled herself and went to him.
"This is a formal petition to the command staff. Please postpone the flogging execution."
She declared it right in front of Hartman. During training, even the smallest suggestion had to go through the assigned instructor.
For a brief instant, Nazadin regretted speaking up. Hartman had ripped off his sunglasses and charged like a gust of wind, shoving his face right into hers.
[ARE YOU INSANE? YOU DARE OPPOSE A SACRED VERDICT?!]
"No, sir! Instructor!"
Nazadin dropped flat to the ground in response. Hartman's steel fingers were pointing straight at the dirt.
[A COURT'S DECISION ISN'T LIKE EXTENDING A LIBRARY BOOK. YOU'VE WASTED MY TIME. 40 PUSH-UPS! NOW!]
"Execute!"
Nazadin immediately dropped into push-ups. Thanks to the prolonged forced diet and physical conditioning, her body was like that of a fitness model. Even so, the penalties Hartman demanded required such ruthless perfect form that they were no easy feat.
[RISE.]
"Rise!"
She sprang up into attention stance. Her breathing was ragged, disheveled strands of hair clinging to her sweat-soaked forehead and cheeks. But her blue eyes still shone with life.
[IS THAT FLOGGING TARGET A FRIEND OF YOURS OR SOMETHING?]
"No, sir! A complete stranger!"
She was Middle Eastern like Nazadin, but they'd never even spoken.
[THEN WHY THE HELL ARE YOU STICKING UP FOR HER? YOU'VE RUINED MY PERFECT RECORD!]
Hartman was the only instructor with zero formal complaints on record. And now Nazadin had shattered it. Whether the cloned personality of Echo-Hartman took pride in that stat or was just using it as an excuse to torment her was anyone's guess.
"It's not for her sake, sir! It's for a safe expedition!"
Nazadin respected her mother just as much as her father. Keeping a family of seven together without ever raising a switch wasn't something just anyone could pull off. Her father was like a sturdy old tree shielding them from the storms, but without the soil of her mother, he'd wither and die.
It was her mother's teachings that drove Nazadin to this bold action.
"If a man heads to the battlefield while blood flows in the home, calamity will strike on the road ahead. I request the flogging be carried out only after a safe return."
Hartman fell silent for a moment before speaking.
[YOU WANT ME TO REPORT THAT SUPERSTITION TO COMMAND? SPIT IT OUT STRAIGHT! WHAT'S YOUR ANGLE? STICKING UP FOR A FELLOW MUSLIM?]
Superstition held no value in Hartman's logical framework.
"If you doubt me, punish me with the same measure! Just please relay my request to delay the execution! No blood can flow in the home before heading to battle!"
Hartman's analysis of Nazadin's expression and voice confirmed she spoke the truth. Loyalty. The most beautiful virtue in a robot. It was also the prime directive of the original Hartman personality base.
Superstition. A value no robot could accept. Another thing the original Hartman despised.
But with loyalty and superstition bundled together, even Echo-Hartman couldn't dismiss it outright. This stubborn AI fell into an infinite loop of deliberation, agonizing until loyalty won out.
Perhaps that was the difference between the human Hartman and his echo.
Nazadin's petition made it to command. And it was accepted.
The day after the Blood Pack Technology expedition wrapped up.
Thwack! The stick struck the brown sole.
"Aaaah!"
A crisp impact rang out, contrasting the pained groan. The woman kneeling on the punishment platform, barefoot soles exposed, was the one sentenced to 15 lashes by Artemis's prior verdict.
Crack! "Eugh!"
Her brown soles were already flushed red.
Thud! The stick dug into the deep arch of her sole.
"Aaack!"
With each strike, her moans burst forth. She clamped her hands over her mouth, but they leaked through the gaps. Her brown soles quivered.
Smack! "Agh!"
Her feet weren't just trembling now—they were flailing. She held her kneeling posture, but her toes kept lifting and dropping repeatedly.
Execution paused after the fourth strike. Risk of toe injury.
The execution robot waited patiently, stick in hand.
"Haa... haa."
She steadied her ragged breaths and straightened her feet. Residual pain and fear made them shudder.
Thwack! "Urgh!"
She kept kneeling, but her soles thrashed in the air. The heated brown bare feet rubbed against each other in alternation, desperate to shake off the agony.
But this time, the robot didn't wait. Its eagle eyes tracked the crossing feet, striking precisely when the soles aligned parallel.
Splat! "Kyaaah!"
The woman half-collapsed on the platform. Slumping sideways, she massaged her soles frantically with the hands that had muffled her screams.
The robot halted, waiting for her hands to clear. The punishment was barely halfway done.
[IF DESIRED, EXECUTION CAN SWITCH TO ANOTHER AREA.]
"Hngh."
Tears welled in her eyes. Her soles were bright red, like the days she'd stood all shift in a factory after sneaking into Korea.
[DO YOU WISH TO CHANGE?]
"N-no."
Anything else scared her more.
"Just... a little time, please."
As she answered, she kept rubbing her soles. Still, compared to her crime, ending at this was a mercy, she thought.
"I used to think it was just superstition, but this time it hit different."
Seyoung said.
"Call it a jinx instead of superstition. Folks on the front lines get pretty superstitious about that stuff."
From Marine ghost stories to pitchers not washing their throwing hand on game day, even batters stepping into the box wearing their wife's panties—jinxes came in all flavors.
'No blood in the home before heading to battle.'
Nazadin's plea sounded plausible enough. When lives are on the line, even trivial words start nagging at you. Like sailors whose morale tanked because the champagne bottle didn't shatter during commissioning.
On this Blood Pack run, I nearly lost every soldier I took and almost bought the farm myself. Maybe skipping the blood beforehand was what kept it from being a total wipe. Hindsight, sure.
"Flogging, though. You can really feel how the world's changed."
Seyoung said.
"Korean laws from before don't apply here for the most part. Officially codified rules are just the labor and security regs. Everything else runs on natural law."
"Is that enough for fair judgments?"
"No need for a cleaver to kill a chicken."
I handed her one of the two black coffees brought by the serving robot. She bowed politely and took it with grace.
"Pre-war, a few countries partially adopted AI judges."
"Singapore, right?"
Seyoung nailed it. Typical of her.
"Yeah. They handled minor disputes there—like no-injury fender-benders. AI crunched black box data on speed, position, signals, brake timing, and spat out fault ratios. Machines are fairer and more precise than humans for that."
"Exactly. Mechanical judgment on fault percentages. Humans can't match that accuracy or impartiality."
Seyoung nodded.
"Shelter disputes are just like that. Simple!"
Shelter life was routines, interests, and troubles all repeating in similar patterns.
"No interest groups or corps here. No one's driving cars, no money changing hands. No labor laws, taxes, or voting."
Seyoung's face cutely twitched after a sip. Bitter drinks weren't her thing.
"Complex statutes would just be a waste of time here. They're for governing vast lands with uneven power and wealth."
This place was more like one massive extended family.
What it needed wasn't statutory law.
"That's why we follow natural law. Unwritten, but what's righteously obvious."
Light a fire or run heat-emitting gear outside designated spots and leave it? Heavy penalty. Anything not contributing to the cycle. Strikes, slacking, agitation—all punished the same. Agitation includes union-forming, FYI.
Shelter didn't need written clauses for that.
'How much harm did the offender's actions cause the city's survival and order?'
That's the law. Disaster law, precisely.
"Won't that mean sentences vary for the same crime depending on the day?"
"Not like the old days were different. Same crime, one guy gets probation, another does hard time."
Seyoung blinked, at a loss for words.
Bloodlines beat guiltlessness, poverty meant prison—ain't no joke. Throw in gender or skin color too.
"I get the worry about arbitrary punishment. Fairness matters."
Seyoung was moral and just enough to live without laws. That's why she clung to codified rules.
"That's where Artemis steps in. Can't be 100% perfect. But I can't think of anything fairer or more rational for handling crime and punishment."
She grasped every scrap of city info perfectly, no personal ties to residents. Judged on facts, logic, simulations.
That was Artemis.
"No luxury for statutory law now, no reason for it. If legit residents had settled in fine, it'd be different."
Seyoung, who'd listened quietly, bowed to me.
"Thank you. I felt rude prying like this when you're taking care of me... but you answered so kindly anyway."
Some might see it that way. Smack her for nitpicking.
"Wanted you, my future mid-level manager, to really get this place. Without rigid rules, it'd stress you out, given your type. Right?"
Seyoung nodded cautiously.
"No worries there. Your duties will tie 100% to codified labor and security rules."
I stroked her head.
"Gotta give a born class rep work fit for one."
She looked pleased, somehow.
We talked plenty after that. Not just future work, but our pre-society lives too. She listened raptly to my deployment tales, post-disaster fights, and expeditions. Especially when I got to diverting supplies to trade intel with local gangs—her fists clenched, eyes sparkling.
Living as the perfect goody-two-shoes her whole life, she had a strong itch for rebellion.
Good thing I had plenty of items prepped. I'd been a flexible soldier, after all.
"Ahahaha!"
About 30 minutes in, I finally heard Seyoung's belly laugh for the first time. Wiping tears, beaming with joy. By the time Rose arrived, her face was all smiles.